


Coming Home to You

by ChubbinLovin (TinyBibliophile)



Series: Coming Home to You [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Button Popping, Couch Sex, F/M, Food Kink, Friends to Lovers, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Weight Gain, fat kink, feederism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 05:18:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13517388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyBibliophile/pseuds/ChubbinLovin
Summary: It's been a year since you moved away to college, a year since you saw Dave. You're finally back home for the holidays, and you can't wait to surprise him. However, he's not the only one who gets a surprise. A lot has changed in a year, and frankly, you love it.





	Coming Home to You

**Author's Note:**

> I got a wild hare to write this after seeing the lack of fat!Dave appreciation. Plus I've always thought he'd be the type to be super athletic in high school, but gain a bunch of weight after graduating, so there's that. This is a fat kink fic, so consider yourself warned. 
> 
> Also I have a tumblr! Send requests or find more of my fics because I'm too lazy to post them here!  
> http://chub-game-so-strong.tumblr.com/
> 
> (Is Homestuck still relevant? *Sound of Silence plays in the background*)

It had been a year since you saw Dave last. Of course you'd kept in touch after you graduated and moved away for college, but it wasn't the same. At first you two had skyped almost every day, even if just to watch a new movie together, but after a few months he started coming up with excuses to just stick to texts and phone calls. Things like “I'm not feeling well,” and “my webcam’s broken.” For the first few weeks you believed him, but after a while you felt like he was avoiding it. Or worse, avoiding you.

 

It didn't really matter though. You knew that, deep down. You'd grown up together, been best friends since grade school. A little distance wasn't going to change that. Still, you thought, you missed him. From the moment you'd settled into your dorm, it felt like a hole had opened up where he'd once been. The friends you'd made at the university were great, but none of them could replace him. But all that would soon be remedied: you were home for the holidays, and you’d have a couple weeks to make up for lost time.

 

You'd already stopped by your parents’ house to catch up and unpack, but now you were pulling into his driveway in your cheap rental. Your heart thrummed with giddiness as you began walking up the steps to Dave’s house to ring the doorbell. You hadn't told him you were coming by, or even that you were in town yet; you just knew he'd get a kick out of the surprise.

 

However, when he answered the door, he wasn't the only one surprised by what he saw. The change in him was immediately visible, and it made you halt in your tracks. In high school he'd been the star of the swim team, so naturally he'd had a slim, toned build. Even as a kid he'd been as tall and as skinny as a lamppost, putting the word "lanky" to shame. Not anymore.

 

Sure, you'd heard of the infamous “freshman fifteen,” but this was something else entirely. The first thing you noticed was the rounded mound of his stomach, once flat and chiseled. His hips were no longer narrow and angular; instead they flared out, only to taper back down into his wide thighs to make a subtle heart shape. Even his sharp jawline had faded and softened into the subtlest of double-chins. His red sweater didn’t hang loosely like all his shirts used to, and it seemed just a tad stretched despite looking fairly new.

 

Then you realized you were staring. You grinned brightly as if to act like nothing had changed, pretend like you hadn’t noticed. How could you not though? He was more than twice the size he’d been last you saw him. “Surprise!” you blurted out cheerfully, but it sounded stupid the second you heard it.

 

For a moment he seemed too stunned to respond, maybe even a bit flustered. A rosy flush filled his fair cheeks as he finally returned your smile, if a bit less enthusiastically. “Hey, (y/n),” he greeted, trying to act cool and casual as ever. But you knew; you knew all his quirks and little, nervous tics. He’d buried his hands deep in his pockets and started to periodically wet his lips. Two things he only ever did in tandem when he was anxious, uncomfortable, or both. “Would’a rolled out the red carpet if I'd known you were comin’.”

 

He opened the door wider and gestured you inside. Once you stepped into the entryway, he shut the door behind you and seemed to consider what to do or say next. Even behind his shades he seemed to avoid your eyes, and the pink had refused to leave his face just yet. This was dumb, you decided. Newly chubby or not, this was Dave. Your Dave. When you outstretched your arms in request of a hug, he seemed hesitant, but only for a moment.

 

Hugging him felt like sitting in front of a fire after a long day out in the bitter cold: rejuvenating, safe, and soothing. Most of all, _warm_. Incredibly, delightfully warm. Yup. It was still him. Still your Dave. It didn't matter that you sank into his marshmallowy body, that his thick, extra flesh molded around you like memory foam, or that you couldn't fully reach around his stomach like before. Against all odds, you realized that you thought it was _even better_. Hugging him, in all his warmth and softness, made you really feel home. Like he was the sole reason you'd come back at all.

 

All too soon he distanced himself from you, putting his hands back in his pockets. “So, college girl,” he began, shifting his weight to one foot, then the other, “what brings you to the Strider abode?”

 

“Really?” you snorted in response, crossing your arms and playfully raising your eyebrow. “I haven't seen you in a year and you ask what brings me over? I've missed the fuck out of you, man.”

 

“A year, huh?” Then he managed to crack a sly smirk. “I hardly noticed.”

 

“Oh, shut up,” you chuckled as you slugged him in the shoulder, just like old times. Except that he rubbed his arm like it had hurt and laughed nervously. He hadn't used to so much as flinch, even when you'd thrown a real punch the one time he'd dared you to. Moreover, the surface you hit wasn’t rigid and firm like you remembered. It was like punching a pillow.

 

“Kidding, kidding,” he eased, tussling your hair teasingly, only for you to bat his now chubby hand away. “I missed you too.”

 

The two of you continued to chat and catch up as he lead you into the living room, as if you didn't know the house like the back of your hand. When he sat next to you on the couch, you tried to ignore the new way the cushion groaned under his bulk, or the way his gut bulged over his lap. Worse, you tried to ignore the tingly butterflies they triggered in your core. You could only hope he didn't notice your wandering eyes.

 

“So,” you blurted out, your own cheeks feeling warm now, “should we watch shitty horror movies or trashy Christmas flicks?”

 

You saw his eyebrows raise eagerly behind his shades as he smirked. “The real question is which should we watch first?”

 

“Good answer.”

 

The two of you flipped a coin. When it landed heads, you agreed on The Grinch, starring Jim Carrey. It was easily the most "ironic" Christmas movie either of you could think of, and if you were honest, you'd always liked it. Even if it was pretty terrible. Dave pulled up Netflix and found the movie of choice, and the two of you took turns riffing it ala Mystery Science Theater style. After that Dave found Troll 2 on a movie pirating website and played it next.

 

When the infamous scene began, the two of you exchanged stifled laughter as you mocked the film in unison: "They're eating her... and then they're gonna eat me!" You practically had tears in your eyes from trying not to laugh as you finished off the line together. " _Oh my goooooooooood!_ " The two of you finally burst out laughing at the sheer absurdity, the stale acting and ridiculous script. This was nice, you thought. It was like being a kid again. You tried to ignore when your thighs brushed together, how warm he felt beside you, how much you wanted to lean into him, but it just kept on nagging at your brain.

 

Three movies in you realized how late it had gotten. Time sure did fly when you were making fun of awful movies and suppressing bizarre sexual tension. The sun had already gone down, and your stomach was growling. You hadn’t eaten since before your flight that morning, and you could’ve sworn you’d heard Dave’s stomach too. “What time is it?” you asked, searching for your phone.

 

“Eight o’clock,” Dave answered, getting to his cell first. “You don't have to leave yet, do you?”

 

You didn't want to. “Not really,” you told him with a shrug. “Just getting kinda hungry. You wanna order a pizza, compliments of my student loans?”

 

A year ago he would've jumped at the chance of free pizza. He'd always been a foodie, and you'd always liked spoiling him with his favorites. Now he seemed oddly reluctant. “Ah, I'm not really  hungry,” he began, the indifference of his tone seeming forced, “but you can go ahead if you want to.”

 

You did, and you were totally calling bull shit on his “I'm not hungry” line. Dave had never not been hungry for as long as you'd known him. So you pulled up the Pizza Hut website on your phone and started placing an order. You ended up placing an order for two large pizzas (one with your favorite toppings and one with Dave’s), a two ltire of root beer, and an order of cinnamon sticks, because they were having some kind of family special on them. It was a deal you couldn't pass up. It took about forty five minutes to arrive, and by the time it had you were practically salivating. You answered the door, signed off on the receipt with a generous tip, and waved goodbye to the delivery guy. Then you brought the bounty into the living room and spread it all out on the coffee table.

 

Dave quirked a brow up at you as he crossed his arms. “I said I wasn't hungry,” he told you dismissively, though you could tell he was scanning the open boxes with more than just a mild interest. The smell itself was intoxicating, and he’d always had a bit of a gluttonous streak in him. You suspected that the lack of willpower combined with the lack of swim training since graduating was to blame for his new body.

 

You just shrugged as you sat back down next to him and plucked a slice from your pizza. “You might be later,” you responded casually before taking a warm, melty, cheesy bite.

 

An hour went by. You were three slices and two cinnamon sticks in, but he'd yet to take so much as a bite of anything. It seemed stupid, but you just knew it was because he didn't want you to see him eat. Did he really think you were so vain that him gaining weight would affect your friendship?

 

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom,” you said abruptly, wanting to test your theory. He gave a brief thumbs up as you stood and left. You took your time, pacing for a few minutes and then checking your reflection. Scanning your face and running your hands through your hair, you wished you could get it to look at least halfway presentable. Then you realized how ironic it was that you were the one worried about your appearance now, when Dave seemed paranoid enough for the both of you.

 

After about ten minutes, you flushed the toilet and turned on the faucet, only to shut it off a few seconds later. When you walked back into the living room, you immediately noticed that one piece of his pizza was gone and another halfway eaten, as if he'd put it down as soon as he heard you coming. You pursed your lips a little bit, knowing you'd been right, but you said nothing as you flopped back down beside him. You tried to ignore the way his body shifted with the motion of the couch, and the way he folded his hands over his middle to futilely try and hide it.

 

“How long are you in town?” he asked out of nowhere.

 

You turned to look at him, met by your reflection in his shades. He usually didn't feel the need to wear them around you, you now noted. That bothered you. You’d always loved his vibrant eyes, after all. “I fly back on the second,” you replied, and he nodded a bit solemnly. “Why?”

 

“No reason,” he said with a shrug. “Just curious.”

 

You felt yourself getting anxious now. Was he eager to get rid of you? You thought things would be the same, that nothing would've changed in just a year, but he was acting so strangely. Surely it wasn't all just because he’d gotten… well. To be frank, he'd gotten fat. You found that you liked the way he’d filled out though, taking on a curvaceous pear shape. And it wasn't as if he was obese. Just… fluffier. Like a teddy bear. A big, fleshy, shades-wearing teddy bear.

 

It wasn't until you looked at that half-eaten slice that you recognized just how badly you wanted to watch him finish it. You fantasized about him finishing the whole pizza, then the cinnamon sticks, washing it all down with the fizzy soda. You imagined him getting fuller and fuller until-

 

“Hey,” you realized he was waving a hand in front of your face. You felt hot and your mouth was dry. What was that all about? “Yo, space cadet, you okay?”

 

“Yeah.” Your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat. Then you felt bold. “Are-... aren't you gonna finish that? If you're hungry, you should eat.

 

Realizing he'd been caught redhanded, you saw him wet his lips again. He seemed to be trying to think of an excuse, but before he could, you picked up the slice and held it out to him. Gingerly he took it, and just kind of stared at it at first. Only when you turned back to the TV did he start eating, unaware that you were watching out the corner of your eye. You watched his mouth, his lips, then his tongue as he licked the grease off his fingers once he'd downed the last bite. The quiet, wet smacking of his mouth made your heart kick a bit.

 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, and you nodded. “S’good.”

 

You didn't realize you'd been holding your breath until you opened your mouth to speak. “No problem.” Swallowing thickly, you added, “you should have more. It'll just go to waste if you don't.”

 

He must've felt emboldened by that point, or at the very least accepted how hungry he was, so he just nodded and picked up another piece. After that, he didn't need to be prompted to eat his fill. He ate quickly, like he’d been starving himself, but he didn't eat like a slob either. He took small, quick bites, almost like a bird. The way his full lips moved while he chewed, the quiet, pleasurable noises he made drove you half mad. Half the pizza had vanished before he started to slow down.

 

“Full already?” you said in what should've been a joking tone. It came out way more suggestively than you'd intended though, and you saw his cheeks darken. “You're not gonna finish it all?”

 

“ _Haha_ ,” he retorted in an unexpectedly bitter tone. What the fuck? “Real funny.”

 

“Huh?” You were taken aback; you two used to joke like that all the time, making stupid bets and dares that usually ended up with at least one of you sick to your stomach and regretting your life decisions. Why was he being so weird all of a sudden?

 

“Look, I know you’re not stupid,” he finally retorted, addressing the thing you two had been dancing around since you'd arrived. The thing neither of you seemed willing to bring up, at least until now. “And you're sure as hell not blind, so go ahead. Make fun, get it all out of your system.” When you raised your eyebrow at him in disbelief, you could tell he was rolling his eyes behind his shades as he snorted dully. “Don't pretend like you didn't notice when you've been gawking at me all night. I know, Dave Strider got _fat_. Hilarious.”

 

You'd never seen him get so defensive in all the years you'd known him. Normally he took insults, the few he’d ever received, with a laugh and a shrug, or a middle finger at most. He’d certainly never snapped at you like that before, and if you were honest, it pissed you off. “So what?” you scoffed in frustration, crossing your arms. Then he looked stunned, the anger fading to a numb confusion. “You think I'm so shallow that a thing like that would bother me?”

 

“What? No, it's-” He was stumbling over his words now, and you weren’t sure if it was because he felt guilty or embarrassed. If it was the latter, was it because he’d overreacted, or because of what he’d so rashly said out loud? Yeah, he’d gotten fat, but you hardly expected him to _say_ _it_. “It's not like that, I just-... _Fuck_. I’m sorry.”

 

“Is this why you wouldn’t video chat with me? I went a year without seeing your face because you didn't want me knowing you gained weight?” Suddenly your irritation turned to hurt. “Did you think I’d stop being your friend? I mean, come on, that’s so childish!”

 

“No, that's… ugh. That's not it.” His face flushed hotter than ever, and he seemed to consider his words and whether or not he wanted to utter them. He knew you wouldn't let up until he spat it out though, so he finally took a deep breath and slumped backwards against the couch in defeat. “I've always liked you, okay?" You blinked in surprise, your jaw going a bit slack. Wait. What? "I think you’re really rad and cute and you know me better than anyone, but… We were always just _friends_ , and it bugged the shit out of me. No matter how hard I tried you never showed any interest.”

 

Wait, what? He’d been _trying_? You stared at him, dumbfounded. Trying at what, _flirting_? Maybe he didn’t realize it, but apparently his ironic flirting and his real flirting were nearly indistinguishable, if that was the case. Or you were even more oblivious than you thought. Either way, you'd never in a million years thought, even for a second, that he might've seen you as more than a friend.

 

Before you could voice any of this, he kept talking, his knee shaking as he started to idly bounce his foot; his fists clenched and unclenched against his thighs. It was like now that he'd started he couldn't stop himself, words tumbling out like a waterfall. “Then you moved away and I just… I missed you a lot, okay? I started binge eating and lazing around and sleeping all the goddamn time, and before I knew it I gained a ton of weight. Then I started thinkin'-” He took a deep breath, trying to slow the opened floodgate of thoughts and feelings. “I thought if you didn't want me then, you definitely wouldn't now. When you told me you were coming home for Christmas, I was so psyched at first. Then I panicked. I wanted to see you, but I-... didn’t want you to see me, I guess.”

 

At first, you didn’t know how to feel about any of this new information. There were only a few times you could recall Dave opening up to you like this, and each one was precious to your heart, but this was… this was a full-blown confession, one you hadn’t seen coming. One you thought would never happen. One you weren’t prepared for. It would've been a lie to say you hadn't always had a crush on him though. How could you not? With his pretty face and silky hair, his stupid sense of humor and star worthy smile. He knew you so well, and was always there when you needed him, even when you’d been halfway across the country. He seemed stoic, but he was actually the sweetest person you knew. You'd always thought he'd been too perfect, and you realized, fit or fat, you just liked _him._ Everything about him.

 

You moved your hand to slip innocently in between his legs, relishing the taut feeling of his jeans around excessive flesh and the way his thick thighs squeezed around your fingers. He twitched under your touch, a little gasp of breath hitching in his throat. It was so soft, so cute, you almost didn’t believe it had come from him at all. “That's dumb,” you said with a shy smile. “You know that, right?”

 

You aren't sure who kissed who first. All you knew was that you were loving it. It was soft and sweet, a simple melding of your lips. No fancy tongue maneuvers, no swapping spit or anything like that, just your mouths moving together as if in a slow, smoothe waltz. You turned your body towards him to deepen the kiss, hearing him moan softly into your mouth as you let your teeth scrape against his lower lip. Then, just as one hand began to tangle into your hair, the other sliding down your backside, your phone started to buzz in your pocket. You groaned in annoyance against his lips, wishing you could let it go to voicemail. You knew it was your parents though.

 

“Hello?” you answered reluctantly after taking a second to collect yourself. You were still mere inches away from his face, practically holding your breath. Dave quietly fidgeted like he didn't know what to do with himself, his hands hovering frozen where they’d been while he’d kissed you. “Yeah, I'm still at Dave’s.” As your parents asked when you'd be home, you looked at him and bit your lip. “I might actually stay here tonight. I'm, uh...  really tired.”

 

You noticed his eyebrows perk up in surprise, his lips parting, but he didn’t seem against the notion at all. Of course your parents had objections, but the conversation finally concluded with the fact that you were a grown woman and could do what you pleased. After hanging up, you gave Dave’s thigh a meaningful, lingering squeeze. His hand gripped your hip tightly, but he seemed unsure.

 

“What… what should we do now?” he asked, though the question seemed a bit laughable. Even he cracked a dumb little smirk at the absurdity of it. You felt like preteens who’d just shared your first kiss, awkward, excited, uncertain, maybe even a bit scared.

 

You pecked him softly on the lips, your eyes darting down to his stomach. The fabric of his sweater was stretched a bit more taut than before, a shadow noticeable where his belly button was, and you felt a rush in your core as a thought came to mind. “I think you should keep eating.” You felt like you'd been smacked in the face by a heat wave as you realized what you’d just said out loud, and with such a lusting tone of voice.

 

At first he seemed surprised, confused, then altogether embarrassed. “What?”

 

"What?"

 

"You just-"

 

Awesome, you thought, you finally get your chance with Dave and you blow it by being gross and weird. “I- no. It's nothing. I didn’t-”

 

“Yes you did.” Was it hot in here? You started to move away, but his hands held you in place. Biting the inside of his cheek, he managed a tiny, wry smirk. “Yes you fucking did, you pervert.”

 

Suddenly he was pulling you in for another kiss, and this time your bodies were close enough for you to feel his ever-so-slightly distended stomach brush against your own. Without your consent, your hand flew to the side of his thick belly and squeezed; the way his pliant flesh molded in your hand was sinful, and you heard yourself moan weakly.

 

By the time the two of you parted, he was grinning almost smugly, though there was still a deep flush in his cheeks. It was like he couldn't tell whether to be embarrassed or turned on, so he'd just settled somewhere in between. “Kinda ironic,” he started in that dulcet, “cool kid” voice of his, “I kept telling myself I was gonna lose all this weight by the time you came back, and now it’s got you all hot’n bothered.”

 

“Shut up with your irony,” you huffed with a roll of your eyes, squeezing the roll of fat in your hand harder. A tinny whine erupted from his lips, and he finally conceded. You two could spend all night teasing each other for this or that, or you could actually do something about it. Personally, you preferred the latter.

 

Finally he agreed to your albeit strange request, and judging by his hesitation, his taunting words had just been his way of trying to stall. The slice in his hand hovered tantalizingly close to his lips before he took a bite, but he appeared to gradually warm to the idea of it all. While he ate piece after piece, you took the opportunity to poke, prod, and play delicately with his fat stomach. You loved the way it yielded underneath your fingers, the way he practically purred in time with your ministrations.

 

It seemed like the blink of an eye when the rest of his pizza was gone. Then you pushed the rest of yours in his direction. It took a little encouragement, but he relented. Honestly, you hadn't expected him to go along with this as far as he already had, but you weren't complaining. His eating started to slow the farther into the second pizza he got, and you noticed the hem of his sweater beginning to ride up a bit. You saw a sliver of pale skin bulging out between his jeans and shirt, and you softly ran your fingernail along the width of it. He shivered and squirmed, only causing his shirt to lift more.

 

He kept eating, and you kept exploring. As your hand dipped to the underside of his belly, where it was protruding over his lap, you lifted up the mound of soft flesh, only to let go and watch, beguiled, as it slapped and jiggled back down against his thighs. Again, he shifted, a moan stifled by a mouthful of food. Was he as into this as you were? Hopefully so. You did it again, fascinated, then began caressing the bottom of the fleshy fold. As your fingers brushed past the button of his pants, you noted how strained it felt. You poked at it curiously, only to realize his fly had been forced halfway down by his sheer girth alone.

 

It wasn’t a clear thought or coherent idea, not a conscious decision that you'd made, but you were going to get him to bust out of those jeans by the end of the night.

 

He finished off the pizzas and even the cinnamon sticks within the next half hour. He leaned back, his hands falling to his bloated stomach. His shirt was up to his navel now, and you could see the pinkish hints of old stretch marks creeping up from the waistline of his jeans. You traced them affectionately, and he shivered with pleasure.

 

“I’m so full,” he groaned, suppressing a quiet burp with his fist. “But that was pretty… actually kinda really hot,” he mumbled out, and you found yourself smirking and licking your lips.

 

“We’re not done yet,” you said as you got up eagerly, then demanded he stay sitting. You almost couldn’t believe it, but he did as he was told. Of all people, Dave was not the obedient type, but tonight he was like putty in your hands. The Strider house was basically your home away from home, so you didn’t feel at all guilty when you started to raid their cabinets and fridge. Besides, it wasn’t as if you were getting it for yourself. You found an almost-full tub of ice cream, and it was like stumbling upon the Lost City of Atlantis.

 

When he saw you come back with the secondary dessert, you could tell his eyes had widened with disbelief even from behind his shades. Speaking of which, those had to go. The moment you’d sat back down, straddling his lap with the tub of ice cream between you, you yanked the specs off his face, tossed them onto the coffee table, and stared deeply into his eyes. As you popped the lid off the tub and dipped the spoon in, he started to squirm under you. You couldn't tell if he was eager, or just nervous.

 

“Should I be scared?” he asked with a halfhearted chuckle, not-quite joking.

 

“Maybe, but for now,” you said with an eager little smile, raising a spoon full of ice cream to his lips. “Open wide.”

 

You found that as much as you’d enjoyed watching him stuff himself silly, doing it yourself and pampering him was even better. At first he seemed unsure, but after the first few bites he seemed to warm to the idea. Yup, he was definitely into it, though he might not have admitted as much. You almost couldn’t keep up with how quickly he was eating, that glorious gluttonous streak coming back with a vengeance. Meanwhile, as the tub got emptier and emptier, his gut swelled out further and further. Then the ice cream was gone, and you heard him groan with what you couldn’t distinguish as pleasure or discomfort. Possibly both?

 

His breathing was heavy, maybe even a little ragged as he looked at the two litre. The way his eyes were half lidded, he was either sleepy, horny or both. “Are you gonna make me drink all that too?”

 

“I haven’t _made_ you do anything,” you reminded him tauntingly, giving his distended belly a light little slap and causing him to gasp a bit. It didn’t jiggle anymore, now taut from being filled with high-calorie foods. Then you moved off his lap. “You could’ve stopped whenever you wanted. I mean, if you don’t think you can _handle_ _it_ , then I guess-”

 

Check and mate. He grunted as he struggled to sit up, snatching the two litre off the coffee table as if to spite you and your doubting ways. He twisted off the cap and met your daring look with determination, then began to guzzle down the soda. Each swig seemed to instantly inflate his belly, bit by bit. Halfway through, he stopped and gasped for breath, a bit of the sticky, sugary beverage dripping down his chin. He rested one hand tentatively on his swollen, gurgling gut. His cheeks were burning, chest heaving with effort as his stomach groaned, pleading for him to stop. You began to rub circles against the bare skin of his belly to quiet it, his tight sweater pushed nearly up to his chest by his sudden growth.

 

He was on his last mouthful when it finally happened. The sound was tiny, but it might as well have been an explosion in the quiet room. At first it was just a tiny creak of straining fabric and popping stitches, then a quick, pronounced _snap_  that echoed in the relative silence _._ The button of his pants broke free and flew across the room, the zipper forced down and his fly torn open by the wobbling, settling heft of his spherical belly. Dave nearly choked on the drink in his shock, coughing after he’d swallowed it all.

 

“Fuck,” he moaned, seeming half mortified and half aroused by this development. He covered his mouth with one hand, brows knitting together in his embarrassment, and futilely tried to lift his bloated stomach so he could inspect his pants with the other. The halfhearted movements of his hand made his belly wobble obstinately. You took an odd, guilty pleasure in it all. “These were my last fitting pair of jeans.”

 

“Obviously they didn’t fit very well,” you remarking playfully as you prodded the roll of fat straining over the waistband of his pants. “You looked ready to bust out of them hours ago. Frankly I'm surprised it took this long.” While inspecting the broken fastenings of his pants, you realized something that absolutely delighted you: he was rock hard, his boxers forming a subtle tent in the gap of his zipper. Between his bountiful fat and throbbing hard on, the denim barely contained him. “Looks like I’m not the only one getting hot and bothered, huh, Dave?” Words danced on the tip of your tongue before you finally felt brave enough to spit them out. “No wonder you got so _big_ … you're such a glutton.”

 

You almost couldn’t believe it, but those words, or maybe it was the way you said them or their implications, made him melt like butter. His expression took on a vulnerable, lustful look, and his hips squirmed as if trying to get friction. “Hm?” you began innocently, ever-so-slightly stroking the tip of his cock. “Does that turn you on? When I tell you how _big_ and _fat_ you’ve gotten while I was away?”

 

He attempted to steel himself, clenching his jaw and making his gaze as hard as possible as he looked into your eyes. Good old Strider pride, you thought humorously, shifting to straddle his thick lap as best as you could. “Well?” you repeated, giving the head a little, taunting squeeze, immediately breaking that thin veil of calm he’d built. “Does it?”

 

“Fffuck, yes,” he finally admitted, raising his hips to try and get more friction from your hand. “Just stop fucking teasing me already.” You weren’t sure if he meant in the sexual sense or the literal sense, but you supposed it didn’t matter either way.

 

“We should go to your room,” you hummed against his ear, massaging his member in your hand and nipping the lobe softly. You could already feel beading precum through the fabric of his boxers.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me? I feel like a fucking balloon.” The words sent a jolt through your abdomen. “I’m not moving for shit. Dirk’s out for the night, so whatever your gonna do just do it already, _please._ ”

 

You’d never heard Dave beg before, but you decided you liked it. “Only since you asked nicely.” Then you began helping him out of his clothes, and vice versa. Trying to wriggle his thunder thighs out of the tight jeans was harder than you’d imagined, but his boxers yielded easily enough. His shirt was gone next, and you marveled at his doughy mass. You guessed that he must’ve weight upwards of 250 pounds, but you didn’t have long to think about it before he was stripping you of your garments.

 

He couldn’t seem to wait any longer when he finally cupped your breast with one hand and guided your hips over his own with the other. Then, before you knew it, he’d moved inside you. Your whole body seized with a sudden jolt of pleasure-pain, but as he began to move his hips the pain part subsided entirely. Within seconds you were moving in tandem with him, your breath hitching as his thick belly rhythmically pressed into you.

 

Your hands braced themselves on his shoulders as your pace quickened. His heavy, labored breaths and strained, pleasured groans echoed euphorically in your ears. The way his face twisted in pleasure, his round, jiggling, ruby-red cheeks like a masterpiece. With one hand, you grabbed at his budding breast and massaged the flabby skin, tweaking his nipple once or twice. The feeling of him melting and squishing under your touch sent you quickly over the edge.

 

It hadn’t lasted long, neither the orgasm nor the sex itself, but it had felt so good that you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. He came first, pulling out just before ejaculating, but quickly moving his hand to continue pleasuring you until you came as well. Your back arched and you gasped out his name, your whole world heat, sweat, and ecstasy for a solid few seconds. As you started to come down from your orgasmic high, the movements of his fingers between your legs slowed, easing to a stop as you finally settled your body against him, soft and warm and heaving from breathlessness and effort.

 

Yup. It felt like home.

 

Burying your hands under his belly fold, your fingers squashed between it and his thighs, you sighed contentedly. "That was amazing," you breathed against his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck.

 

He nodded, mumbling something unintelligible in agreement as you felt him bury his face in your hair, inhaling your scent deeply. "So I guess this is a thing?"

 

"You being fat or us being a couple?" Your tone made it clear that both were in fact a thing, and you hoped that they would continue to be so.

 

"Yeah. I mean. Both, I guess." His arms slipped around you, and as his lust ebbed his self-consciousness seemed to return, but only vaguely. "You're really into this? Like... this wasn't just a weird, kinky experiment or pity fuck? You're really... into _this_?" he repeated, gesturing from his perky breasts to his swollen tummy to his spilling hips. 

 

"You're not?" you retorted, reaching down to give his taut belly a hard shake, grinning as he moaned. "Because you seem pretty into it. And I definitely am. You were cute before, but now... you're so fucking  _hot_  like this." You squeezed him tightly with your whole body, cuddling him with every fiber of your being. "If you wanna lose it I won't stop you, but  _damn._ "

 

"I don't see why I'd want to lose anything that makes you touch me like that."

 

"Then don't."

 

The two of you sealed your pact with a kiss, then you helped him to heave himself off the couch. You took care of picking up all the clothes and mess you'd made, since you wondered if he was even capable of bending over in his stuffed-full state. Once the evidence of your shenanigans had been taken care of, you joined him in his twin-sized bed. It was a tight fit, but you didn't mind in the slightest. All the more reason to hold him close, and for him to do the same. He hummed pleasantly as you shifted to tangle your legs into his, and you couldn't wait to wake up beside him the morning. You couldn't wait for all the adventures and good times you were going to have with him.

 

A couple weeks was a short amount of time, but you'd be sure to make the most of it before going back to college.


End file.
